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1
MASON
The beautiful stranger drops onto all-fours and mindlessly shoves an arm under the motel room dresser, frantically searching around.
“…And…andeverybodyneeds to blow off steam now and then. It’s perfectly healthy. And totally normal and…and natural and good for you,” I hear her wheeze out.
I roll onto my side in the twisted sheets and yawn contentedly. “Yeah…”
“As a matter of fact, it’s scientifically proven. It’s backed up by studies. Multiple studies. Multiple studies published in multiple medical journals from multiple countries all around the world.”
Her butt jiggles as she keeps digging around.Nice.
“Even some religions agree. Sex is good for your…your…your spiritualthingy. You know what I mean.”
I ease up onto one elbow and prop my chin on my fist, mesmerized by the show she’s putting on.“Uh-huh…”
When she pushes her arm deeper under the dresser, her spine arches. That only makes her bare, round backside stick up deliciously in the air.
It’s distracting.
She rambles away, her voice high and anxious and defensive as she continues to justify what we did last night.Allnight. “Plus, we’re both consenting adults a-and—”
She suddenly seems to sense me leering at her in all her naked glory. She turns her scowling face toward me.
“You’re not even listening!” she alleges with a growl.
“Of course I’m listening,” I shoot back, a lazy smile sprawled across my face.
She huffs in annoyance. “And you’re judging me. Stop judging me. You needed ‘that’ as much as I did.”
“Who said I’m judging you?”
“Your face,” she hisses accusingly. “That sneaky, little, judgy pretty boy smirk you’re wearing.” A river of silky black hair tumbles over her stabby blue-eyed glare.
Suppressing a sound of amusement, I flop onto my back and drag a slow palm down my sweaty chest. “What smirk?” I feel said smirk deepen.
She waves her free arm in my general direction.“Thatsmirk!” With all the frantic arm-waving, she loses her balance. She barely catches herself before face-planting on the dirty rug.
This woman is entertaining. Although I have a sneaking suspicion she’s not trying to be.
And why is this display of hot-mess-ery turning me on? I’m rock hard again.
I have issues. Clearly.
My palm trails over my heavy length, willing it to simmer down. I nod my chin toward where she’s crawling around on the floor. “What the hell are you looking for down there anyway?”
With a huff, the woman finally emerges from under the dresser with her panties balled up in her fist. Standing, she hops into her underwear and yanks the pink and white tiger-striped fabric past her dainty ankles, one tattooed and the other donning a beaded ankle bracelet. Her heavy tits and gorgeous hips jiggle slightly as she shimmies the fabric up her long legs. Her body is spectacular.
And like a creeper, I can’t look away.
She’s not amused.
She brushes grit off her kneecaps and shoots me a scowl. From the fire in that scowl, I’m guessing that a ‘round four’ isnoton the menu for us this morning.
Bummer.
My head is still light and foggy from rounds one, two and three. Meanwhile, she’s rushing around like she’s urgently got somewhere to be. At five in the morning.
